Reminiscing
by CaliforniaDreamer
Summary: Literati. He always runs away. She never has enough sense to follow. So what's left to do but think about it, try to fix it, and let it go? They have to do just that. For the sake of the other.


**Disclaimer: If Gilmore Girls were mine, do you really think we would have gotten as little of Jess this season as we did? No? I didn't think so.**

**Timeline: Just before Rory sees Jess in 'A Family Matter'.**

**Spoilers: Anything up through Nag Hammadi may be mentioned, no more.**

**AN: Ok, I'm being a big perfectionist on A Wrong Kind of Paradox. It's taking me a while, and in the mean time, I wanted to write this. Its cliché, its been done before, I know, but I was in the mood. It's a one shot, review if the spirit moves you, no less.**

**Reminiscing**

Winter had hit New Haven, and when it hit, it hit hard. You would think a day like today would have everyone inside, cuddling with a mug of hot cocoa, watching the snow cascade in bucketsful out the window. But no. Everyone was out, meeting friends, jostling about, excited for the beginning of the snow season. There was no exception to Yale University, Durfee Hall, suite 5. Empty, save for one Rory Gilmore.

And she just sat. Blank faced, in front of a blazing fireplace, with a small box in front of her. She should be home this weekend, roaming through the snowfall with her mother, taking in the absurd bustle of activities Stars Hollow had planned for this week. But no. Her mother had piles of stuff to take care of at the Dragonfly, and had promised she'd spend time with Jason. She had apologized many a time, until it had become this annoying redundancy in Rory's ears. So, thousands of times she had assured Lorelai it was fine, that she had tons of work to catch up on, and wouldn't be much company this weekend anyways. 

It wasn't a complete lie. She did have work. Just not so much that she would be slaving over it. In truth, she didn't mind a weekend to herself every once and while. As her suitemates were all out, with boyfriends, or family, or whatnot, Rory was by herself. And strangely, it suit her just fine. She was normally a very chatty person, but lately, she just hadn't been in the mood. A funk that just wouldn't go away when cured with coffee, and seemingly from nowhere.

Ok, maybe not 'nowhere', exactly, more like, she knew what it was, but had no idea why it, of all things, would resurface now. Rory supposed it must have been in the back of her mind, but lately, every sweet, haunting memory was hitting her like a punch to the gut. And it, or at least, the closest reminder of it, was kept aside in this box. 

Nearly a year ago, it had all come crumbling down. It had started out innocently enough, a fight here, making up there, but it gained speed rapidly, picking up a whirlwind of destruction. And then he left, thus the calm after the storm. 

He called, bringing a sort of aftershock to the equation. His silence just made it all hurt worse, made her wonder what it was that he couldn't tell her. That he needed to tell her. And she wasn't going to pine, she had said that not only for him, but also for her own self to somehow be conned into believing it. 

She had tried to move on. She causal dated, never mind the awkwardness due to an unfortunate 'urine mint' conversation. She has got to stop taking conversational tips from Tanna. She tried to ask someone out, though unsuccessful in her attempt, but wasn't disappointment just another rite of passage. 

Rory couldn't help but think that she had been let down enough. Not by the circumstances in which he left, by which the fights were started, but by the fact that he did leave. Twice. And that the fights did start. Countless times. 

But, nevertheless, she went on with her life. Sure, there were those moments in class where she thought '_Jess would love to hear this'_ and when she came across a book that just screamed out his name. Then she would have to shake herself, remind herself that he was gone. And that this time, he probably wasn't coming back. She certainly wasn't going to go run after him. No, this was his decision. But why did he choose to hurt her so much?

Lately, she hadn't been able to hold back those little thoughts of him. She couldn't seem to just tell herself to forget it. He was everywhere, popping up at the most inconvenient times. Those deep unreadable eyes, that evasive smirk, permanently etched into her memory. Not that it wasn't nice to see him; she just wished it were all real. And she knew she shouldn't wish such things, not after she was supposed to be turning a new chapter in her life.

Rory supposed she just held it in far too long, hid her emotions until they built up and burst out, leaving her confused and wondering where it all went wrong. But she hadn't really _loved _him had she? Yes, she supposed she had. Maybe still did. At least, the residue of it all was still there.

She took in a short breath, letting it out slowly. Shutting her eyes, so as to shield herself from a flood of the past, she slid the lid off of the small box settled in between her knees. It clattered onto the floor, and she reluctantly opened her eyes.

She had a Jess box. He was gone, and yet again, she didn't want to 'wallow'. She preferred the 'bury yourself in work' treatment. But her mother insisted that this was a vital part of the 'grieving' process: storing away the most precious moments of the relationship, let them become part of the past. She didn't see how this was possible. At that point, all she could see was him, no matter what she focused on. But she went along with it.

Rory never looked in those boxes again, those of Jess, Dean, and all her relationships to come. She sealed them tight with mailing tape, placed them in the back of her closet, their presence the only reminder left. She left those two particular boxes at her mom's house, her childhood home, because she preferred to think of those times as her childhood past.

As she had been gathering her things for Yale, she had noticed a single photograph lay out in the open, just sitting there on her desk. Waiting to mock her. She didn't see how she left it out. Unless something in her unconscious mind...ah, who was she kidding, this was her 'love life', not some Freudian concept. 

The picture had been taken before Rory and Jess were officially 'Rory and Jess'. Some random tourist had been taking photos of this 'picturesque, fairytale of a town' and mispointed the camera, missing the intended subject of the background and instead resulting in a photograph focused on Rory and Jess, walking along the town, discussing some book, or something along that line. She didn't really remember, it wasn't that important.

A few days later, the tourist had happened to spot Rory in the diner. Jess was, as usual, on break, or in this case, sleeping upstairs. The picture had been handed to her, its photographer saying something along the lines of 'I thought you might like to have this.' Rory just nodded as she gazed at the picture in her hands.

Absentmindedly, she had flipped it over, not too sure why she did so. A note was written on the back in an unfamiliar scrawl. _'I don't know you, and you don't know me. But I just wanted you to know how lucky you are to have found someone at such a young age, someone you can be with and never grow tired, for that is evident in your eyes. That's very rare, and I wish you all the luck you can hold.'_

Rory was, needless to say, a bit shocked. But...the thought wasn't as unnerving as she would have expected. Her. Jess. Together. She never showed the picture to Jess, but kept it, hidden from all but her own eyes. Her own little secret.

So when she had come across this picture, all came back to her. The possibilities that had now run amok. She didn't know what to do with it. So, she just placed it in a small box, once again hiding it, this time, among her baggage as she prepared for college. A strip of her old life flooding into this new one.

And that brings us to her current position. She stares back down at the picture, for the first time since she packed it. The box has been an ever present reminder every time she glanced at it, but the memories were somewhat diluted. Now...she was seventeen again, lost between the worlds of lust, love, and wonder.

Hands trembling, she picks it up, handling it ever so carefully. A single tear rolls down her cheek, yet she feels like the wind has been completely knocked out of her. Trying to regain some sense of composure, she does what she should have done months ago.

She drops the picture, letting it slide gently into the flames roaring in the fireplace. She turns away, not daring to look until she can be certain that the fire has devoured the photo completely. 

This is what she needed. To come to grips with reality. To believe that her future with Jess, like the photograph, had been turn into a pile of ashes.

At the pit her stomach, she still had the feeling of something to come. An ominous presence hanging in front of her. This kind of feeling didn't just resurface for no reason. But at least she knew where she stood. She could fake the strong now, let them both go on. 

Because sometimes, you can think back all you want, and still come to no solution for the current fix you are in.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jess Mariano was on a bus cross country, for the second time in the past year. The reason? His idiot of an uncle. Stealing his car? What the heck was he thinking? Whatever. Jess didn't think he could possible fathom the thought processes of Luke Danes. And whatever possessed him to tell Jess's mother about the car was beyond him. He didn't even know why he talked to Liz. Sure, she meant well, but he was trying his hardest to forget the first nineteen years of his life. Though, with screws up like his, it wasn't a very likely accomplishment. 

So here he was. Back to the town he most wanted to forget. Whatever, he was grabbing the car, and leaving. No small talk, no meeting up with old acquaintances.

Or those who were more than that.

But he wasn't going for her. _'Sure, Mariano, keep telling yourself that.'_ He just...he left some things unsaid that he would rather not leave that way.

Jess wasn't a talkative person. Ever. Liz's friends would often whisper when he was little, wondering why this kid never spoke, what kind of defect he had. But he just never had anything he particularly wanted to say or have heard.

Maybe after all those years of 'huh's and 'whatever's, all was ready to burst out. He didn't know. It didn't really matter. He just knew had to tell her why he did what he did, why he never called (well, called and spoke), came back, why he had to leave in the first place. And that he...he...loved her? Was that right? Did Jess Mariano, really, truly, care about someone that deeply?

Yeah. And he had to tell her. Not that he expected her to come running back in his arms. Quite the opposite really. It was just something that needed to get out, so she could move on, not thinking it was her fault, that he didn't care. Of course, she probably already moved on, she said she would.

He needed this. He needed to be with her, but since he couldn't...he would settle for knowing he wanted to.

This was too screwed up for him to fix. And he had gone through every possibility. So, he'd do what he needed to do, and go on. Let her linger in his memory, if she couldn't be completely taken out. The full frontal memories were just too painful. 

He just needed to see her one last time. And let her go. These feelings had to be here for a reason.

END


End file.
